


By Any Other Name

by Morgana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at Castiel's life before and after he met Dean Winchester</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cassiel had been created with a unique purpose. Not that this made him special - all of God's angels were created as such, and he was no different. He was made to Watch, to look upon the works of God and man alike, and from the moment life had been breathed into him, he had obeyed. He watched the clever apes stand upright, saw them take their first unsteady steps and pick up the rocks and sticks that they would shape into clumsy tools. He watched them discover their own natures, the tender side that they showed to their family groups and the violence that was unleashed upon their enemies.  
  
Time passed, spinning out in a long thread of days and weeks and years, and still he Watched. Those first apes stood straight and tall, their skin and hair shining under the sun, and there was no denying that they were beautiful, almost as beautiful as his brothers. They were growing smarter as well as lovelier - the rough tools had taken a fine shape in their hands, and they mastered the art of the field and vine. But their strange duality remained, for they made a drink from the vine that brought out the crueler side of their nature and yet they grew bread to share with strangers.  
  
God seemed pleased with His creation, and He particularly loved the apes, enough that He called them man and sent His angels to serve them. There was one, however, who was not pleased, one who refused to serve man despite their Father's command. He cried out that they were made to serve God instead of man, and for his disobedience and defiance, he was cast out of Heaven. Or at least, that was how the humans would later tell the tale.  
  
Cassiel knew the truth. He had witnessed the war that rent Heaven asunder, the cries of surprise and outrage as brother turned upon brother. They had used first words and then weapons, forging steel from the lightning and tearing the Heavenly Grace from each other with claws and hooks and the terrible force of their will. Many fell amid the fury of their battles, cast down to live with the humans and forever yearn for the Home they had lost, while others sought power or distinction, their greed and hunger almost inseparable from the men they so often disdained.  
  
Many came to Cassiel and sought to urge him to one side or another, but he would not answer them. He had been commanded to Watch, and he would not leave his post. There were terrible lessons in those days, discoveries of wrath and spite and cruelty that they had not believed themselves capable of, and then came the day that they learned that they, too, could die.  
  
It had been Michael who slew Orphaniel, Michael who had been transformed in an instant from loving older brother to terrifying warrior, ablaze with light and power until he shone almost as bright as their fallen Morning Star. He cried out in a voice that rang through Heaven, proclaiming God's wrath with His children, a shining sword of flame appearing in his outstretched hand in an instant. And he wasn't the only one changed - in the blink of an eye, the archangels that had guided them, raised them and taught them vanished, and in their place were beings of forbidding might, charged with the task of seeing God's justice carried out, on earth as well as in Heaven.  
  
Cassiel watched Heaven take a new shape, regimented and ordered, trained to aid Michael in the battles that he would face as he carried out God's word. He saw the archangels begin to change, becoming remote, icy creatures almost unknown to him, and he began to wonder if they even knew themselves anymore. Gabriel's laughter ceased entirely, the music that had always surrounded him fading until it was barely discernible, while Raphael's gentle touch vanished beneath hard hands and a crackling light that kept all at bay. But it was Michael who changed the most, becoming a formidable soldier devoted to God and his duty right before their eyes. Cassiel missed his brother's tender smile, his kind eyes and wise words, and while he knew that none of the others would say anything, he thought that he might not be the only one. When Gabriel left one day and never came back, he was sure that he wasn't.  
  
All over Heaven, angels were given new tasks, and Cassiel waited for the day he would be told to stop Watching, but it never came. Gradually, he turned his attention back to earth, where men had learned to fear God. The vengeance that the archangels had visited was remembered and passed down in stories and legends that became myth and ritual, and ultimately religion. In the name of their new religion and to expiate their fear, they visited acts of horrible injustice upon each other, claiming that each brutal death glorified God. Cassiel wanted to scream out that this God wasn't the one he knew, the one that had made them all, but that wasn't his charge to carry out. He was only able to Watch.  
  
Men were an inventive lot. They turned their attention to creation of all kinds, harnessing the power of the skies to light their homes, channeling water into the deserts, and finding ways to transport themselves vast distances. And, as always, their innovation was applied to the means they used to destroy each other. They found new and ever more fearful methods to increase the victims until they cracked open the very secrets of life itself in a blinding flash of light that silenced Heaven. Their technology seemed to explode after that, allowing them to give barren women children and cure any number of plagues that had kept their numbers down.  
  
Cassiel remained a silent witness to all of it, the jubilant shouts of discovery and wailing screams of decimation. The cries of man rose up to Heaven, and doubt began to creep into his soul, but then Michael gave him a task. A man was about to be born, and Cassiel was to Watch him and his family. It was a strange assignment, simply to Watch one man, but as he saw Dean Winchester grow to manhood, he slowly began to understand. Sometimes it wasn't about all of humanity, but one man, willing to stand against demons and darkness that were far stronger and more numerous than he could ever comprehend, one man who loved his brother enough to sacrifice not just his life, but his soul, one man damned to Hell, where he was delivered into the hands of Destiny.  
  
When the garrison was arming itself, Michael came to him again. "Do you understand?" he asked quietly.  
  
"I do. And I want to go with them."  
  
Michael looked at him for a long minute. "If you go with them, you will not be able to return to Watching," he warned. "You will know fear and pain, and you will shed the blood of your fallen brothers along with that of demons. You will become one of us, a soldier of the Lord, dedicated to the fight as we are."  
  
"I know."  
  
The other angel nodded. "So be it." He held a sword out to him and smiled. "Tomorrow is Thursday, so go join your new garrison then... Castiel."


	2. Chapter 2

None of them had known what to expect. They'd been prepared for fire, for torment and suffering, for screams and pleas from the damned souls that surrounded them, but they hadn't been ready for this. None of the demons that had been captured and interrogated had spoken of this formless void where only ice and darkness reigned, none of them mentioned the cold that swept through them or the despair all around that penetrated right to the very essence of their souls. The garrison had come ready for war, ready to do battle to retrieve the soul of Dean Winchester, but none of them had been ready for Hell.   
  
There was no trace of their Father here - none of His light, no echo of His presence, no sign that He had ever come near this place. Darkness surrounded them, occasionally broken by the faint, fading glimmer of those souls that could still be called human, the damned beings that had not yet been twisted by the darkness into the demons that they would one day become. The deeper they descended into Hell, the darker it got until the only light at all came from the angels themselves.   
  
Castiel wondered if that was why they hadn't been properly prepared for the reality of Hell, if the demons that they'd captured hadn't spoken the truth - or at least, what they knew of it. Humans spoke of Hell as a place of burning and pain and everlasting fire, and perhaps it was so for them. But fire was light and power, and both were of God, and God was not here. There was only the dark and cold and wretched cries of the damned.   
  
But as horrible as they were, it was the voice of their fallen brother, the echoing screams and neverending shrieks that filled the air, that was most unsettling. Lucifer, their best and brightest, their beloved, cried out to them, called for aid, for justice, for the briefest glimpse of his brothers. And Castiel, at least, wanted to give it to him.   
  
He shuddered as a haunting plea raked across his nerves, slicing into the very heart of him with a bright, burning pain that he'd never known before. "Lucifer," he whispered, seeing golden eyes blazing with light and love, remembering the way his voice wrapped around him like the warmest of embraces.   
  
"Fan out!" came the order from an obviously shaken Izra'il, the sharp crack of his voice yanking Castiel out of thoughts of his brother, taking him back to his purpose there. "Fan out and find the righteous man!"   
  
Castiel drew his sword, fingers tightening nervously around the hilt, the blessed metal warm in his hand. Around him, demons drew back, while damned souls moved closer, reaching out to him, imploring him for the aid they instinctively sensed he could give. He looked at each in turn, automatically taking mental inventory of their virtues and sins, but none bore the mark of the righteous man, the one they had come to save. Turning away, Castiel heard a chorus of pleas break out behind him, and he did his best to harden his heart, reminding himself that these souls had earned their place here. Dean Winchester was an innocent, one who must be suffering more than any other in this place of pain and darkness.   
  
An anguished scream tore through the air, a sound of sure pure pain and ultimate suffering that Castiel knew surely it must have been Dean Winchester who made it. He raced towards the sound, ready to destroy whatever being tormented him. The soul on the rack wasn't Dean Winchester, however, but a young boy, far too young to have known what he was doing when he sold himself to a demon and wound up here.   
  
Castiel started to turn away when a rusty laugh mingled with another wrenching scream and he looked back at the rack, where the demon had discarded one tool for another, and this time he saw the faintest flicker of light from within its black soul. A light that illuminated the mark they were looking for. "Dean Winchester," Castiel said quietly, and the demon wheeled around as soon as he heard the name, one bloody hand clutching a knife that was instantly raised to strike. Castiel slowly sheathed his sword and held his empty hands up to show that he meant no harm as he moved closer, one slow step after another until he was just a foot away.   
  
Hope may spring eternal in the human heart, but hatred is forever nurtured in the demon one. And the soul in front of him was more demon than human now, eyes flashing a deep liquid black as he reached for it. It drew back and hissed at him, baring teeth in a snarl that turned into a scream when Castiel's hand closed around it, sinking through layers of darkness to make contact with the light that had been almost eradicated by its time in Hell.   
  
Pain shot through him at the moment of contact, so much overwhelming pain that Castiel wasn't sure he was going to be able to hold on. He threw his head back and screamed, the sound joining the demon's howl as light burst and swirled around them. This wasn't the welcoming light of Heaven or the strong pulsing of a righteous soul, but the dim flickering of a soul almost extinguished. Too long, they'd left him too long in Hell's embrace, and they would be lucky if he wasn't lost to them entirely. Castiel tightened his grip on the soul and he spread his wings, taking flight with one powerful surge that tore the soul in his grasp free of the darkness that had almost enveloped it completely.   
  
He could hear the questions and joyful cries of his brothers and the indignant outcry of the demons behind him, but he paid no attention to anything but the broken, fading soul within his grasp and the way its light flickered, growing dimmer with every second. Whispering encouragement to it, Castiel spoke of restoration and grace and redemption, but nothing seemed to excite a response until he spoke of home. That was when the soul pulsed, for the first time offering him an image of something other than blood and blackness.   
  
 _Home?_ Castiel saw several brief pictures flash before one was settled on - a car and a man in the seat next to him, a cacophony of sound coming from the radio while the man laughed and shook his head. _Sammy_. _Home_!   
  
 _Yes, home_ , Castiel assured it, winging his way even faster to the surface. He knew it was foolish to promise these things when he knew what Samuel Winchester was, but the thought seemed to calm his brother's soul, and they needed him. And it was clear that Dean Winchester needed his brother, if the way the soul clung to him was any indication, an endless refrain of _sammysammyhomesammymysammyhome_ emanating from it.   
  
They burst out into the starry night, the first hint of fall lending a chill to the air that made the soul in his arms utter a frightened, keening cry. Castiel soothed it as best he could while he carried it to Dean Winchester's resting place, where his body lay beneath a crude, homemade cross. Lowering himself down to the ground, Castiel turned his attention down to the coffin and the remains of what had once been Dean Winchester's earthly body. But when he attempted to rejoin soul with flesh, the soul refused to be restored. Castiel was forced to wrench it free, and he gasped as a tendril of his Grace tore free along with it.   
  
He would have reclaimed the Grace, but the body in the earth would be stirring soon and he had to turn his attention to it, healing it so that there would be no trace of the trauma it had undergone, no signs of his sacrifice to cast their shadow over his new life. A weak voice called for help and Castiel watched, fascinated, as Dean Winchester made his way free of his grave and drew his first breath as God's chosen.   
  
"Dean Winchester is saved!" he cried out, and he felt rather than heard his brothers echo his words. Heaven could rejoice, for the righteous man would walk the earth once more, and God would work through him. They would see miracles; Castiel would reveal himself to Dean and tell him of his destiny, and all would be right with the world.   
  
Or so he thought.   
  
But when he tried to talk to Dean Winchester, nothing happened. The man's ears bled, as though he were an ordinary human rather than the one destined to be the salvation of Heaven and Earth. Castiel tried once more, while Dean Winchester sought out Samuel Winchester and the demon that was feeding him blood and lies, and again he met with failure. Finally, he admitted defeat - he would have to take his vessel, clothe himself in mortal flesh in order to present himself to humanity's savior. It was lowering, but Castiel woud do what he must to see his mission through.   
  
The psychic called him just before he reached his vessel, and he tried to warn her. If she had waited but a few minutes - but she was impatient, as so many of them were, and like most humans, she had been unable to tolerate his true form. Castiel regretted the injury done to her, especially since he knew of no way to restore her sight. Had he not had his vessel and Dean Winchester waiting for him, he might have tried to discover one, but greater things needed doing.   
  
His vessel was waiting for him, and agreed readily enough when Castiel explained what was required of him, although he did make Castiel promise to keep his family from harm. It was unorthodox, but easy enough, so Castiel gave his word. Besides, he rather liked the man - he was righteous enough, more so than most humans, and his concern for his wife and daughter were to his credit. With his vessel's consent, Castiel descended and slid within, mingling his essence with flesh for the first time.   
  
It felt... strange. Different, to have a body, to be a physical creature, to touch and feel and - He walked away from his vessel's house and took flight, moving himself with a thought to the shed where Dean Winchester and Robert Singer had tried to summon and bind him with incomplete magic. Salt and blood, iron and steel, none of it deterred Castiel from his mission as he moved forward, determined to speak with Dean Winchester alone, to reveal his path to him and finally set things right.   
  
And yet again, Castiel was proven wrong.   
  
Dean Winchester had no faith. Not in himself, not in angels, not even in God. Castiel watched him closely in the days that followed their first encounter, and while he would never think to openly question God's choice, he wondered why, exactly, his Father had selected Dean Winchester as the world's champion. He drank, he stole, he took the name of the Lord in vain so often it was a wonder he knew any other words, he consorted with women and men without giving his heart to either - in just a few days' time, Castiel was reasonably certain that he had witnessed Dean Winchester committing every single one of the seven deadly sins.   
  
With any other human, Castiel would have dismissed them as beyond redemption, but there was something different about Dean Winchester. If he could be brought to believe, he could indeed be a daunting force for good. Castiel just wasn't sure if he was the right one for that task, particularly after he attempted to warn him about his brother's destructive path. When he received no reply, Castiel turned away. Perhaps he should consult with Michael, ask him to assign Dean Winchester a different guardian. He was about to return Home when a voice made him stop in his tracks.   
  
It was the voice of the man he had been ordered to Watch, the one he had gone down into Hell to retrieve, the one who claimed he didn't believe in God or angels. And that voice was talking about him. calling him - "Cas," he repeated carefully.  
   
As nicknames went, Castiel supposed it wasn't such a bad one. And if it would help bring Dean Winchester into the fold, then he would be this 'Cas' for him.


	3. Chapter 3

The Winchesters were the epitome of selfishness. They had no religion save their belief in each other, no true concern for the innocents they saved on a daily basis, and no qualms harming or killing those they deemed disposable. They divided the world into family and not-family, or so it seemed, and anyone not-family was of no real importance to them.  
  
And angels were decidedly  _not_  family. Dean Winchester had made that frequently (and loudly) clear.  
  
Quite often, Castiel felt like he was attempting to have one conversation with the Winchesters while they had a very different one with each other. He spoke of Seals and battles, of man's eternal struggle, and they talked about hamburgers and water pressure and whose turn it was to do the laundry. But there was something more there, something he didn't quite understand but could see when they played their little finger games to see who got the first shower or the firmer bed. They bickered endlessly, picking at each other over the smallest things, but when Castiel had interceded to halt a budding argument, both of them had turned on him with a sudden single-mindedness usually seen only in the fiercest predators.  
  
Castiel found himself seeking them out when he didn't necessarily need to, watching them closely, both when they could see him and when they couldn't, trying to understand. He wanted to decipher this code of theirs, learn their language and speak it with them, particularly the exchange of insults that seemed to have a number of different meanings for both brothers. He wanted... he wanted to be noticed by them. It was rather humbling, to realize that he actually wanted these tiny beings to not only accept him, but to care for him. And it wasn't just Dean Winchester; it was Samuel as well.   
  
The young man destined to become Lucifer's vessel was every bit as much of a surprise as his older brother; he had the true, devout heart that Castiel had expected to find in the righteous man, despite the fact that he had shared his bed and body with a demon for months now. His soul was tainted with demon blood, streaked through with the blackness that he had imbibed in the cradle, yet it shone with a brightness that matched his brother's, a pure light that spoke of a desire to do good and a yearning towards God. Castiel knew there was darkness there as well, knew that the demon was nurturing it every chance she got, and knew too that he was supposed to ensure that she had her chance to do so, but he found himself wanting to encourage the light, to help it grow until it could outshine any darkness.  
  
It wasn't until he'd spent six months following them that he understood why his brothers had fled to Heaven after Dean's raising. The Winchesters were dangerous, particularly for a creature like himself. They spent their lives surrounded on all sides by demons, destiny, and deadly threats, yet they disregarded them all in favor of a reckless hedonism and bravery that was reminiscent of the great heroic tales of old. Castiel had seen them laugh and trade quips in the darkest, most dire of times, when death had seemed all but certain. It was a celebration of life, wild and careless and free, and as time slipped by, the temptation to join in grew until it became a longing that threatened to choke him.  
  
Castiel told himself that he was above such things. He was a creature of spirit, not flesh; earthly pleasures should pale to his eyes when compared with Heaven. But somehow, the Winchesters had awakened something deep inside him, roused a rebellious streak way down in his soul that now whispered that the celestial choir, lovely as it was, couldn't rock out the way AC/DC could, and while he still preferred to fly, there were times he wished his wings could roar like Dean's car did. He wondered if this was how Lucifer had Fallen, if he'd gone down to Earth and then found himself discontented when he returned to Heaven. Was this the real reason they were forbidden to take vessels and walk with men, the secret truth that many might discover they would rather live among them than apart from them?  
  
He tried to curb his rebellion, tried to remember Lucifer's Fall and let it be his lesson, and for a small time, he succeeded. A small, but critical time, for it was Castiel that slid the bolt free and released Samuel Winchester to allow him to break the final Seal. Lucifer rose, and his brothers rejoiced, for the end of days was at hand, but Castiel found no joy in his heart.  
  
All he could see was the grief in Dean's eyes and the horror on Sam's face when they realized what it meant to have Lucifer free.  
  
It was then that Castiel found his true purpose: he wasn't made to Watch, nor was he a warrior, to fly to Michael's side. He would Seek instead, search their Father out and beg Him to help them. Surely He was not indifferent to the suffering that humanity would endure under Lucifer's rule, surely He would wish to see them spared, as they had been before. It only remained for someone to find Him, and Castiel knew he could do it.  
  
He had to. Castiel had helped to cause this chaos, helped unleash Lucifer upon a world that was in no way able to defend itself against him. Now he would have to help put him back and make it all right once more.  
  
Secure in his new purpose, he went to ask Dean for the amulet that would allow him to begin his Search.


End file.
